


Enough For Now

by SzechuanSensual



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst, But my sadistic tendencies won't allow so, Emotional Manipulation, Gynecologist Keith, Kidnapping, Lance (Voltron) Needs a Hug, Langst, M/M, Manipulative Lotor (Voltron), Omega Lance (Voltron), Omega Verse, One-Sided Attraction, Rape/Non-con Elements, Slow Burn, Toxic Relationship, Underage Prostitution, Whump, aka he's a pussy doctor, and a break, endgame klance, just kidding he's emotionally constipated, who also gets pussy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 04:08:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17196245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SzechuanSensual/pseuds/SzechuanSensual
Summary: Of course it had to be him. In this secluded mansion where Keith was hired to visit, traversing a considerable distance from any human civilization, of course his patient turned out to be him. Deep breathes. Retain professionalism. It's not even your baby(if Keith's heart experienced a twinge of pain at this realization, he chose to ignore it).Where Lance seeks shelter in the wrong man, hoping to patch up scars the sex trafficking industry left. Meanwhile Keith, just your average Gynecologist without any people skills whatsoever, stumbles into this whole mess.





	Enough For Now

**Author's Note:**

> So in honor of keeping the Voltron (Legendary Defender) fandom alive, even after season eight's conclusion, I decided to give this fic a go. WARNING: it does contain sensitive content. Please do mind the tags. Anyways, I'm certainly excited to start this little project of mine. I myself have never explored omega verse before. So if I did my research wrong and misinterpreted certain elements, feel free to call me out on it.

  


Only faint murmurs, muffled words shaped into barely comprehensible sentences, managed to weasel their way into Lance’s ear. The rest of the lecture was lost completely as white noise: a cacophony of distorted voices, led scratching against paper, and the light Tuesday morning shower that pitter pattered across rooftops. Expecting Lance to focus in class was essentially the same as asking him to switch off his nature.

 

An impossible task, much to his disappointment.

 

It was especially on rainy days, after hoards of students are directed to remain indoors, when pheromones are strongest, trapped within the confines of their cramped classroom. Instead of washing away the obnoxious stench, rainwater only amplified it. No one even bothered to crack open a window.

 

In other words, Lance has no choice but to scrunch his nose and power through.

 

His eyes peered over to the left wall, praying for faster release, but the clock remains stubbornly motionless.

 

2:23pm

  


_Thirty seven more minutes._

  


Yet only five has passed since last he checked.

  


_Quiznack_

  


He tried diverting his attention on the only pleasant aroma there.

 

Guava fruit.

 

It came three seats from Lance’s right. There in her wooden pedestal, sat the most tragically beautiful alpha Lance ever laid eyes on.

 

When Lance commented such on their first day of sophomore year, Hunk and Pidge responded with playful eye rolls. “You say this about every time someone with decent symmetry walks in.” Lance didn’t bother denying it.

 

But Maggie Henderson was different, truly. Her beachy waves and forest eyes turned everyone, no, everything that surrounded her into a desert, barren and dry in comparison–

 

“McClain.”

 

–she wasn’t your generic beauty however. Although her attire certainly gave off a more coffee-shop-esk atmosphere, snug tank tops outlining soft curves tucked flatteringly under corduroy jeans, Lance knew Maggie would blend into any element, and if so desired, could make herself home even in the Queen’s quarters herself. Rather than generic, dangerous beauty would be a much more fitting title. She had edge. A display of rebellion pierced into her left nostril–

“McClain.”

 

–Then again, Lance might just be a sucker for nice hair–

 

“Mr. McClain!”

 

A pencil nudged into his shoulder.

 

Blue eyes sprung back into reality, answered with condescending snickers and Mr. Iverson’s glare of disapproval. “Mr. McClain, now that you’ve finally arrived on earth,” he was interrupted by a new round of snickers, “could you tell the class what a derivative is?”

 

Now Lance may be no mathematician, but he considered himself quite the expert at identifying social cues.

 

Numerous heads spun in his direction, expectant, scrutinizing. Especially Mr. Iverson, who remained relentless in his endeavor to single Lance out in front of the whole class, again. Iverson’s question was obviously supposed to be simple. Everyone obviously believed Lance didn’t know the answer.

 

Well, they were correct.

 

He chose to muster as much suave as possible. “Sorry Mr. Iverson, I don’t understand why you would ask me. Out of all of us you should be the go to guy for this stuff, right teach?” Lance scrunched his face into his trademark smirk, masking the internal screaming running rampage.

 

Judging from people’s general positive response, Lance’s attempt to play clown seemed successful at least, laughter reverberating from all sides.

 

Iverson’s stoic face, however, remained unimpressed as he made long, calculating strides in Lance’s direction, “Perhaps I’m asking you since it is a basic question we’ve gone over since day one, McClain, but I’ll gift you the benefit of the doubt and ask you again, w h a t   i s  a  d e r i v a t i v e ?” The statue towered over Lance now, stony hard exterior reflecting an even colder interior. Lance couldn’t help but shift uncomfortably under its imposing shadow, looming miles over him.

 

Yet even under Iverson’s icy gaze, Lance caught sight of curious green eyes in his peripheral. Maggie was watching, waiting to see how Lance will respond, maybe even a little intrigued.

 

Only God knows how Lance can be so easily controlled by a pair of pretty lashes.

 

“Gee Iverson you’re really getting up in my area. A lil’ inappropriate doncha think?” Lance settled an elbow on his desk. His chin nestled onto the divet of his palm as he leaned in, playful and just a tad flirtatious. “Usually people would get to know each other first. I’m not ready to jump the gun and answer all these complicated questions.” Just for fun, he threw in a wink at the end, scoring extra laughter from peers.

 

The classroom’s positive atmosphere felt liberating. Lance could almost float over their warm acceptance and bask in its comfort, even if it was only a momentary pleasure.

 

Yet Lance was always left with a lingering touch of guilt afterwards. He didn’t understand why.

 

At least Maggie was taking notice of him now, a little smile of approval etched onto her generally disinterested face.

 

Iverson recoiled slightly at Lance’s flat out inappropriate and ill-timed flirting. If Iverson was disgusted by Lance before, it was obvious now. Words bit through clenched teeth, “Slope, McClain. The derivative is the slope.” Lance’s body melted in relief after Iverson left his area, returning to his usual domain at the head of the classroom.

 

Even so, shame still inched its way into Lance’s chest, clawing at his insides. He could’ve known the answer if he studied, if he paid attention in class.

 

But no matter how well Lance performed academically, no one seemed to care. Lance wasn’t naive anymore; he knew better than to hope such socially ingrained views could shift so easily. Especially from people like Iverson, who held stubborn preconceived notions of what omegas were like, what Lance was like, as if their lives depended on it, even if it was an entirely unconscious decision.

 

Overtime, Lance began to fear they might be right.

  
  
  
  


_“Look at our smart, beautiful boy. ¡Dios! I’m so proud. ¡Cariño ven aquí, rapido rapido! Our boy is going to school in America! The Garrison school can you believe it?”_

 

_“Lance? Really? That’s wonderful, hijo!”_

 

_“Mamá, stop kissing me so much my cheeks are getting covered in lipstick.”_

 

_“Shut up and let your mother kiss you. We party tonight.”_

  
  
  
  


Lance remembered how beautiful his mother glowed the day their mailman arrived, waving the Garrison acceptance letter on their doorstep in joined anticipation. He remember how his mother’s smile seemed to stretch across radiant oceans of glittering pride for their child. Their child who triumphed where no one in their family could before.

 

Sometimes Lance wondered how she’d react if she bore witness to him now.

 

He decided he’d rather never see.

  
  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  
  


“I can’t believe what I’m seeing right now.”

 

Each temple on Shiro’s forehead was claimed by faint red indentations, traces of a good twenty minutes spent rubbing his head. Though, he remained unsuccessful at keeping stress at bay.

 

Takashi Shirogane usually carried himself with an almost inhuman amount of patience: traffic jams, arguments, grocery lines, tedious work days. A truly unrivaled talent.

 

Unfortunately, he’s still very much human. And sometimes, even Takashi Shirogane’s supposedly endless supply of benevolence hits a wall.

 

Today was one of those days.

 

“Really?! Are you serious, Keith? It’s only been two weeks since you’ve last been suspended!” Shiro let out another groan, burying his face into his hands, “Please tell me you’re in an experimental makeup phase or something. Please tell me I’m only seeing things.”

 

Keith answered in the deadest tone possible, “I don’t have a black eye. You’re only seeing things.”

 

 _“Keith,”_ Adam shot the ‘you’re not making the situation any better. That was uncalled for’ glare, which Keith found redundant. It was nothing he didn’t already know.

 

Far beyond the scope of second chances, and definitely past the limit of Shiro and Adam’s patience, it’s not as if anything Keith could say or do at this point would make a difference.

 

“I just, really don’t know what to do anymore Keith. At this rate, you could get expelled, or maybe even not graduate. Why do you have to make things so much more difficult than they need to be?” Keith’s face remained unfazed, eyes still focused ahead into nothingness. He chose to answer with silence.

 

Though to everyone else, it may have been received as disinterest. “See! This is what I mean!” Adam tried diluting his husband’s tension with a supportive hand, but Shiro only brushed it aside. “It’s really hard for me to grant you this ‘breathing space’,” exasperated hands motioned towards the significant gap between them. Maybe it was a tad nonsensical to choose a bench ten feet away, “when you refuse to just, talk to me. We care about your future Keith, so please try caring a little too.”

 

Adam chose this moment to interrupt, “What he means is, we only want to hear your side of the story. It’s not that we think you don’t care, it’s just, it’s a bit of a challenge to figure out what you want when you keep giving us the silent treatment.”

 

More silence.

 

Shiro mumbled to himself assuming Keith couldn’t hear, “God, what would Mom do.”

  
  
  


_No, he didn’t. He does not get to pull a dirty card like that._

  
  
  


Keith spat back with as much boiled hatred two words could harness, _“Fuck you,”_ he growled.

  
  


Shiro’s eyes widened in realization of his mistake, instant regret flashed across his features.

 

But it was too late. Because before any apology could be ushered, the principal's door slammed open, letting out a disheveled, battered-up James Griffin. The beta was in much worse condition than his opponent, split lip and bruised face giving a vivid enough idea of what transpired earlier. Behind him followed Mrs. Griffin, prim, proper, and furious.

 

Before exiting the counseling office, the Griffins gave one last glance at Keith’s family. Mrs. Griffin shot a twinkle of victory from a condescending smirk, hard to miss. She made sure of so,

 

and that certainly wasn’t reassuring.

 

All eyes followed the Griffins as they left, signaling the principal to clear his throat, the alpha’s nonchalant tone already giving away his stance.

 

It seems Principal Harris has made up his mind.

 

“Come in.”

 

The trio exchanged looks for a brief moment before following the principal inside, settling themselves onto welcoming cushioned chairs, a stark contrast to their stiff atmosphere.

 

“I believe there’s no need for introductions, since we’re already well acquainted to each other. Notice the extra chair I placed?” Adam and Shiro joined eyes with the teenager slouched onto said chair, accusatory looks met with an apprehensive shrug. “I made sure to have three chairs placed in here at all times, since well, at this point I basically expect your company.”

 

Adam and Shiro replied with sheepish smiles, unlike Keith, who still rested comfortably on his seat with no remorse.

 

“We truly are very sorry about that,” Adam apologized.

 

“Yes, I know. I’ve heard so many times.” He side-eyed Keith, who rose slightly from his position in challenge. Principal Harris narrowed his eyes for a split second before reverting back to flat stoicism. “We’ve all gone through the motions many, many times. And frankly, for a school as rigorous as the Garrison, this brand of frequent misbehavior is inexcusable.”

 

Keith scoffed.

  


_It is when from students you profit from, scumbag._

  


“Keith, be more respectful.” Adam furrowed his eyebrows in disapproval.

 

Keith tsked and threw his head to the side, refusing to reciprocate eye contact.

 

Clearing his throat, the principal tuned out Keith’s blatant rudeness, “No matter how intelligent a student may be, they can only go so far with an uncooperative attitude.” Keith rolled his eyes at that last bit, earning another chastising look from both guardians. “I’m afraid that if we don’t see improvement in Keith’s academic and behavioral marks by the end of the semester, well, we’re going to have to let him go.”

 

Shiro stood up, “Expulsion?!”

  


_At least I won’t have to deal with people anymore._

  


Adam interjected soon afterwards, though it took significant self control to remain poise _,_ “With all due respect Principle Harris, Keith’s grades are superb. I wholeheartedly agree with having him get along with others better, but for you to demand him to score any higher academically, is, well.”

 

“Bullshit,” Keith commented.

 

“What he means,” Adam continued, attempting to abate the young alpha’s abhorrent language, “is that it’d be almost impossible to do so.”

 

“Exactly,” Shiro nodded, “He’d have to get perfect marks for there to be any significant difference.”

 

It was true. From the start, Keith’s abilities were bound on a one way track: exuberant intelligence existing where social skills lacked.

 

Picking scuffles and swiping Iverson’s Jeep, his inclination towards delinquency drove Garrison staff to madness.

 

But he was still smart as hell,

 

and boy did that make an erudite-arse-kissing-hooker school like the Garrison plenty of bank.

 

Too bad it was the money she loved, not Keith. Shame.

 

Mrs. Griffin’s excessively flashy wardrobe was telling enough. Bouge-ass fabric decorated her slim physique, probably stitched with expert hands and shipped at pristine condition from some European country. _Adam would have a heart spasm just looking at the price tag, I bet_. It only took a single scope up and down the woman to know where the Garrison’s loyalties lied this time around.

 

‘Improve your academic performance or get expelled’ was essentially a euphemism for ‘Earn us more money and prove your worth, then we’ll think twice over throwing you out on the curb.’ Keith got the message loud and clear, no need for pleasantries.

 

Did Keith sock the wrong rich kid?

 

 _Nope_.

 

“I’m sorry, but this is really all I can do for you.”

  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


It was a quiet car ride. Shiro’s fingers tapped against the steering wheel, an occasional glance of concern directed at the rearview mirror, which Keith pretended to not notice. Adam sat shotgun this time, a spot Keith normally reserved for himself. “Good leg room,” he’d usually say. Though today, Keith chose to stay behind, solo.

 

The alpha couple experienced shared hesitation, obviously wanting to say something but not quite sure how to put it into words.

 

Yet words weren’t required to know that if Keith and Shiro’s mom were present, she’d know exactly how to handle everything. She was good like that.

 

Shiro beckoned softly, “...Keith.” Keith kept his head pressed against the window, tuning out his older brother. Shiro tried again, volume a little louder this time, “Keith.” For a split second, Keith’s gaze flickered back at the mirror’s reflection. It was enough. “Keith, I’m really sorry about what I said earlier. It’s my fault for letting those words slip, no, I shouldn’t have even brought mom up in the first place. I made you pay for my foul mood, I’m sorry.”

 

_You don’t need to apologize. I’m the one who fucks shit up._

 

Shiro took Keith’s silence as a cue to continue, “Mom would be so proud of you, if she saw you now. I know it.” Keith’s brows seemed to furrow at that. “It’s true,” he assured, “You two had a lot in common, especially your knack for getting into trouble,” he added teasingly. Keith’s lips couldn’t help but curl into a small smirk.

 

Another pause.

 

Adam decided to intervene, “Keith, why did you get in a fight with James. Was he bothering you?”

 

_It’s because he crossed the line._

 

Another pause.

 

The car engine hummed as they eased into a stop, red traffic light blinking ahead. Rain drops trickled down windows, leaving behind little pathways of their journey before rejoining others on the surface. Rain’s moment of independence is short lived, flying through the air and colliding with concrete reality in less than seconds. Keith liked the rain, but its temporary nature came with a brief sadness.

 

“You know, sometimes handling the not-so-stellar people at school is easier with at least a small pack. Even just one good person will do,” Adam commented, breaking Keith’s moment of contemplative silence.

 

Keith finally spoke, “If good people exist at the Garrison then I guess I haven’t met any yet.”

 

_Better to go alone than in bad company._

 

Out of the blue, they jolted into a stop. Three bodies jerked forward against seatbelt straps. “Babe!” Adam shouted in alarm, wondering what could have provoked their town’s best driver to hit the breaks out of nowhere.

 

“Don’t worry about it, we’re just taking a little detour.” They swerved into a U-turn, embarking on a route unfamiliar to Keith. After about a good ten minutes, it became clear that they were not going home anymore.

 

“Shiro, where are we going?” Keith was only answered with a smile. Even Adam seemed to be in on it too by now, a mirroring expression of mischief. They always did say that married couples turn more and more synchronized with time.

  
  
  


When they finally arrived, Keith exited the vehicle,

 

saw where they really were,

 

and immediately pivoted.

 

He was stopped by firm hands. “Oh no you don’t Keith. You’re coming with us, end of discussion.” Shiro grabbed Keith’s shoulders and spun him around, finishing off with an encouraging pat on the back. Desperate eyes searched for salvation in Adam, anything that’d return him to the comfort of his bed, to which Adam only responded with a shrug, “Shiro always knows best. Just hang out here for a bit, it’ll be a good experience.”

 

Keith assessed the simple, one-story establishment. It wasn’t in _bad_ condition so-to-speak, but no eye-pleaser either. White paint barely clung onto walls, though little succulents decorated the front porch in happy families. A power generator buzzed in content. Perhaps _homely_ would be a more accurate depiction.

 

Though it didn’t change Keith’s reluctance to enter.

 

“I’d rather not meet any more pussy doctors,” Keith commented flatly.

 

Confused, Adam looked at its front sign.

  
  
  


**_Saint Altea’s Gynecology_ **

**_Female & Omegan Care Clinic_ **

  
  
  


“Huh, guess that’s one way to call us.”

 

Shiro raised his eyebrows, “Well, you’re going to have to meet two more, like it or not. Also language Keith, we talked about this.”

  
  
  


Shiro led the way. They were welcomed by a playful jingling of bells as the door was pushed open.

 

Okay, Keith would admit the place wasn’t _too bad_. There were clean floors and comfy couches in where he assumed to be the waiting room, a neat pile of magazines placed on a coffee table over on the left.

 

“Oh my, do my eyes deceive me? We’ve got ourselves a new face, delightful! Who do I have the honor of meeting on this fine Tuesday evening?”

 

“Um.”

 

Before Keith could respond, his hand was joined with the stranger’s in a violent handshake. The beta’s disposition was just as preppy as his complexion, spriteful mustache curled out onto each cheekbone, which somehow made his smile stretch wider than it already was. He definitely seemed to be an _expressive_ character.

 

“This is my younger brother, Keith,” Shiro gestured.

 

“Oh! Yes yes of course! How silly of me not to recognize the resemblance. Very stoic, very Shirogane-like. Though this lil’ pup seems to be more on the dark and brooding side ahaha. Excellent!”

 

“Thank you?” Keith withdrew his hand, rubbing it awkwardly. Though, the stranger didn’t seem to take offense.

 

“Well Shiro Jr., I’m Coran. Gynecology specialist by day, classical music enthusiast by night. And might I say, gorgeous man twenty-four-seven.” He winked.

 

_That introduction was way too smooth to not have been rehearsed._

 

Shiro smirked, amused. “As much as I love the nickname Coran, Keith actually goes by Kogane. We’re half brothers, remember?”

 

“Oh yes how silly of me.” Coran slapped his forehead in exasperation, then jabbed a thumb in Shiro’s direction, “This man here always talks about you, it’s hard to keep track of all the details, apologies.”

 

“Haha don’t worry about it. Anyways, we just wanted to show Keith around. Explore the workplace and hopefully learn a bit. There aren’t any patients now are there?”

 

“Allura’s finishing up a session right now. They should be out in a jiffy.”  

 

As if on cue, a door down the hallway clicked open, allowing faint murmurs of conversation to float into the waiting room.

 

“Will these really help the pain? My heats are pretty bad, pills never seemed to be enough for me.” It was an omegan girl, not too fresh out of high school.

 

Growing up in an almost all alpha family, and attending schools with majority beta and alpha students, Keith didn’t meet omegans very often, so never got used to how _little_ they were.

 

Especially this one, over a good head below him. She smelled of peppermint, short red bob bounced in rhythm with small strides. Omegans definitely exuded a more, pleasant atmosphere? Or maybe it was only this one, he hasn’t met enough to verify.

 

“Yes it should help. Typical off the counter pills are more catered towards general omegans, but this one should fit the bill for you. If you come across any issues feel free to call or stop by anytime.” It was an alpha female, quite pretty by societal standards, Keith supposed. Not that she evoked feelings of attraction or the like. He was simply thinking objectively: wisps of shiny white locks fell from her updo, tracing a smooth, tan face clear of any blemishes or imperfections.

 

“Thanks so much Doctor, you’re really a life-saver.”

 

“Oh no, I’m just happy to help out. You have a good day now Candy.”

 

The girl named Candy did a double take in Keith’s direction, before lowering her head and making a swift exit out the door, leaving the alpha in confusion.

 

“Did I do something wrong?” Keith questioned.

 

The alpha huffed, “Not at all.” She tilted her head, “Are you seeking medical assistance as well? I don’t believe we’ve made an appointment.”

 

“Oh no this is Shiro’s younger brother. He’s on a little workplace expedition.” Coran struck a proud pose, a bit too enthusiastic than Keith found necessary. At least Coran added a much needed energy to the room.

 

“Oh how wonderful. You must be this Keith I’ve always been hearing of. I’m Allura, Shiro and Adam’s coworker.” She held out her hand, which Keith inspected with caution momentarily. After deeming that Allura wouldn’t manhandle him like her moustached friend, he returned the gesture.

 

“Hello,” he nodded his head in greeting.

 

She responded with a warm smile, “You know, if you’re going on a little tour, I’d be happy to take lead. I’m sure you’ll find some things very educational.”

 

“Oh there’s no–“

 

Adam cut him off, “Keith would love to.”

 

_Apparently I do._

  
  


She guided the group into a main hallway. There were six doors total: three on the left, two on the right, and an all-gendered bathroom at the end of the hallway.

 

“So on your left, you have your standard check-up rooms where we meet with patients, and on the right door over there,” she gestured towards the entrance-way adjacent to the bathroom, “is the surgical room. It’s quite common for us to have pregnant females and omegans, so this is usually where we oversee birthing and conduct procedures, take c-section for instance. We also store more expensive equipment here. You’re familiar with ultrasound, am I correct?”

 

Keith nodded.

 

Coran chose to contribute, “I myself like to call it the miracle room.” He finished the comment with jazz hands. Keith wondered how anyone could possibly be capable of radiating cartoon-like sparkles from their fingers, and if anyone else noticed the abnormal phenomena.

 

Coran pulled out a photo book with encyclopedic girth from his back pocket somehow, which again no one but Keith seemed to question. “This right here is my miracle book,” he happily flipped through baby picture after picture, “we keep memories of all our little friends here. One cannot deny the limitless beauty and fortitude in female and omegan biology. Truly wondrous, yes.”

 

“You seem confused, Keith.”

 

Keith’s gaze rose to meet a sharp gaze of scrutiny from Shiro’s end.

 

It seems that without realizing it, Keith’s eyebrows contorted into slight skepticism towards Coran’s statement.

 

Not about omegan beauty, but rather their ‘fortitude.’

 

Overall, Keith likes to consider himself a pretty cautious guy, placing more value on observation rather than societal bandwagons.

 

Yet even though he’s grown up in a household where omegans were held in respectable light,

 

And even though he avoids marginalizing others, which he knows has never helped anyone,

 

He still hasn’t met enough omegans to know.

 

All he knows is what he’s heard.

 

“I… I didn’t mean-–“

 

Shiro’s smile softened in reassurance, “It’s okay Keith, we know you mean best.” Scanning the other’s understanding faces, Keith felt a gentle wave of relief.

 

They seemed used to it.

 

“I think it’s about time we showed you the last room Keith.” Allura’s head nudged towards the fifth door, to their right.

 

It was metal and thick, disturbingly reminiscent of a prison cell.

 

Though unlike the other doors, this one had no window. And when Allura grabbed its iron handle to swing it open, Keith found that unlike the other doors, this one had a lock from the inside.

 

“What is this,” Keith’s voice was hushed.

 

“A heat room,” answered Shiro.

 

There were obvious attempts to make the room more welcoming: a cushioned bed, a landscape portrait (as if to compensate for the lack of window), and flower vases arranged on a shelf.

 

But the entire room was still a cold metal box.

 

Keith commented honestly, “This is solitary confinement.”

 

“Yes, that’s what a heat room is for, to keep yourself away.”

 

The look Keith sent towards everyone else in the room spoke for itself, _‘what happened to patient hospitality? Why would any doctor in the right state of mind send a human being here?’_

 

Shiro inquired, “Keith, do you know why heats are called _heats_?”

 

Keith nodded, “They experience an increase in temperature when, um, fertile.” He let out a little cough of embarrassment.

 

Living with doctors, getting ‘the talk’ was pretty much a given. Still, anyone would naturally feel awkward discussing it in a room of strangers.

 

“You’re technically right, but an ‘increase in temperature’ would be an understatement.” Shiro’s tone was frank, “A common misconception is that heats are like high fevers, which outwardly they do _appear_ that way. But to the person experiencing it, it’s like a literal fire is eating away from your insides.”

 

“A contagious fire that can spread to any alpha in its vicinity,” added Allura, “So, we provide shelter here.”

 

Keith examined the cold room again. _People really do underrate its gravity._

 

“But it isn’t all that awful,” Coran interjected, “when with someone you care about, it can be a magical way to build trust.”  

 

Keith’s blush was faint. “O-oh,” He stammered.

 

Adam chuckled slightly at Keith’s sheepishness. It was moments like these where the teen’s real age shone through.

 

However, their momentary playful atmosphere was soon disrupted, icy reality always crawling its way back on way or another.

 

“But when on your own, or worse, with the wrong person,” Coran paused, “they have no option but to soldier through one of the hardest experiences a human being could endure.”

 

Keith inspected the room one last time.

 

It really was cold.

  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


“Lance right?”

 

Lance was awakened from his slumber. God, why did he have to fall asleep in class all the time?

 

Disoriented, he mumbled out somewhat of a confirmation, “Huh? What? I am?”

 

Blue eyes met emerald green. It was Maggie, _Maggie Henderson_. The subject of his affection for like, a good semester. And she was acknowledging his existence for like, the first time ever.

 

His spine snapped straight so fast, he could almost feel his bones cry out in recoil. “Yes! That’s me! Lance!” He wiped away dried drool and shoved down any remaining fatigue that pure shock hasn’t already brutally murdered.

 

In record time, suave Lance was switched on and ready for action, “What do you need? You lost? Heaven is a long way from here you know.”

 

She giggled, a smooth and enchanting sound Lance wanted to replay all day.  

 

“You’re funny.”

 

Holy crap it actually worked. A pickup line actually worked. This has never happened before.

 

_The response was positive. What am I supposed to do now?_

 

Luckily he didn’t need to do anything.

 

“You know, we should definitely hang out more often. Pretty crazy we haven’t yet.”

 

_Yet! She said yet! As in, we are going to!_

 

“Wh-what? Oh yeah!” He stifled his excitement, “Ehem, pshhh, yeah. We should. I might have a little time open if I squeeze in some somewhere.” He crossed his legs and leaned back, perching his elbow on the seat’s back post. Lance would almost seem cool, if he wasn’t sweating like a pig that is.

 

“You wouldn’t happen to be able to make some time right now for me? Would you?” She tilted her head, caressing smooth locks to loop around her ear.

 

Lance sprung upwards, “Yes!” Realizing his blunder, he immediately reverted back to his aloof front, “I mean, sure sure. I’m free tonight.”

 

The picturesque memory of her pearly white smile was enough to make Lance’s entire week.

 

“Great.”

  
  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  
  


Okay, perhaps this wasn’t exactly the situation Lance was hoping for.

 

In a perfect world, it would be Lance and Maggie, sitting together in one of those cafes on Montana under an outdoor pergola.

 

Instead, it was Lance, Maggie, and some alpha guy (Cole, was it?) bunched together inside a shady bar reeked of cigarettes, located in a part of town Lance never ventured.

 

In a perfect world, Lance and Maggie would be snuggled together to keep warm from the rain. Maybe steal a few light kisses here and there if lucky.

 

Instead, Lance found himself crammed between Maggie and a stranger.

 

Not that he minded the former, of course. In fact, Lance’s cheeks took on a rosy color at Maggie’s casual proximity.

 

It was the latter that he was uncomfortable with. Cole was a little _too_ casual, rubbing his thigh against Lance’s, predatory eyes running up and down Lance’s figure as if he were on display.

 

But what got to Lance the most, surprisingly, wasn’t the alpha’s blatant flirting, or his intrusive pheromones, or even his putrid whiskey breath.

 

It was his animalistic _growling._

 

If Lance even tried to shift his body a certain way, like reach over the counter to grab a sip of water, the guy would release this low grumble that made Lance’s spine shiver.

 

He has never felt so, so _patronized_ in his life.

 

But Maggie was here.

 

He just needed to bear with this for a little longer, maybe he’ll even earn another meeting in the future. One that’s much, much more pleasant.

 

“Why don’t you loosen up a bit Lance? Don’t worry about Cole too much, he won’t bite.”

 

The fluttery sensation Lance felt as Maggie’s

soft hand slid across his own almost made him forget Cole’s hushed comment of “unless you want me to” whispered into his ear.

 

Trying to divert the subject, Lance commented jokingly, “So, uh, Cole, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.” He attempted to inch away from said person, but to his dismay there wasn’t room available for much improvement. “Y-you don’t go to the Garrison do you?”

 

“Eh, I do but I don’t really like to go to school most of the time.” As Cole relaxed into a manspread, his excitement became too obvious for Lance’s liking. Lance instantly verted eye-contact towards anywhere else, though his uncomfort seemed to only spur the alpha on. “Nothing, _interesting_ ever happens, ya know?”

 

If Cole tried to add any underlying meaning to ‘interesting,’ Lance chose to dismiss it.

 

“Things have been more interesting lately though.” Okay, good. Maggie saves the day by changing the subject. “Just today, James got his ass whooped by that Kogane kid, you know him?”

 

“Holy shit Keith?!”

 

Engaged, Cole sat up and leaned over the table. His attention was thankfully focused elsewhere, so Lance silently sent a small prayer of gratitude to Keith and James for the save, plus a small apology.

 

Maggie nodded her head, “Mmhmm. Keith Kogane. It was pretty hilarious not gonna lie. You’d think James would win, especially since people say he’s like some raging alpha trapped inside a beta body. But no!” She smacked her drink against the table. Lance flinched. Her rash behavior was a bit unexpected. “James came out with this black eye and split lip, face completely pummeled,” she waved her hand around her face in emphasis. “Meanwhile, Kogane is basically scratch free. So crazy.” She took another drink from her margarita.

 

“Isn’t Keith an alpha though? I hear he’s gotten in a few fights before.”

 

“Yeah but like, he’s probably defective or something.” A tinge of uneasiness slithered down Lance at her last comment. He wasn’t a huge fan of gossip.

 

Sure he partook in ridicule here and there, usually when poking fun at friends. For instance that time Hunk spewed milk from his nostrils, spurting up a fountain-like trail all over Pidge’s laptop—to which she didn’t find amusing at the slightest. Lance’s words never inflicted genuine harm though. He was all talk no bite.

 

Yet, talking down behind someone’s back like this felt wrong.

 

“What do you mean?” Cole tilted his head.

 

“Well, he lives with his brother and his husband.”

 

“Yeah? And?”

 

Maggie sighed impatiently, “And they’re both alphas! Wow you really need to catch on faster, Cole.”

 

“Yeah right right my bad,” Cole laughed, “Damn that explains a lot though.”

 

“I know right. They’re doctors too. Can you imagine how gross that would be? Having doctors like that? Jesus Christ.”

 

Lance’s awkward smile masked the ugly cringe he experienced right then. Maggie wasn’t at all what he hoped her to be. He suddenly wanted to leave.

 

“Yeah I wouldn’t want some creep to put their hands on me during a check-up.” How very ironic coming from Cole.

 

He held a very warped definition of what creep was.

 

Lance got up, “I-I need to use the bathroom.”

They waved him off, giving him room to squeeze past and escape.

 

Navigating his way through the bar proved to be a challenge. Rather than an open area, the bar was divided into numerous smaller rooms, each a private establishment provided with ringers to request service. Luckily, there were signs that guided the way to his saving grace.

 

He slumped against the sink as water’s cool relief splashed against his face. Now, Lance just needed to call up a cab and bolt out of there.

 

His hand slid into his back pocket.

  


Empty.

  


He tried the other back pocket.

  


Empty.

  


Front pockets?

  


Empty.

  


Okay looks like Lance left his phone with the others. No big deal. He can just walk in, grab it, and call it a night. Sure, he’ll risk seeming lame, but it was a minor inconvenience in comparison to an entire night of unwanted company.

 

As he weaseled his way back through the maze-like hallways, Lance swore he could hear _noises_ from some of the private rooms.

 

Lance blushed furiously. He had to leave fast.

 

“Hey guys,” Cole and Maggie broke from their conversation, “hate to be a party pooper but I’m pretty tired. I think I’m gonna head home.”

 

“Aw Lance, already? It’s not even that late yet.” Maggie frowned, her disappointment sending a jolt of guilt through Lance.

 

He chuckled sheepishly, “Well a guy’s gotta get his beauty sleep.” Lance’s eyes scoured the table.

 

Still no phone.

 

“Have you seen my phone?”

 

Cole shrugged.

 

Maggie smiled in sympathy, “Sorry, maybe I can ring up a worker later and ask. But for now why not sit down for a bit? The drink I got you came just now.”

 

“Oh, I’d rather not have alcohol. Low tolerance and all.”

 

She shook her head, “Don’t worry about it, I figured something like that. You’ve been drinking water all night.” Lance flushed in embarrassment. “I got you a virgin, see?”

  


Wow. That was actually considerate of her.

  


Well, a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

  


She scooted over, letting Lance sit on the opposite end of Cole, thank goodness. He could handle this.

 

The drink was sweet and fizzy. As fruity nectar trickled down his throat, it was accompanied by a rush of content.

 

Lance felt warm.

 

The type of warm where all your senses became sloshed together and replaced by pleasant fuzziness.

 

“You’re so pretty Lance, like really pretty you know?”

 

Lance actually wasn’t put off by Cole for once. Head too buzzy to care.

 

“He really is. Smells good too. You use fake pheromones Lance? Perfume or something like that?” Maggie leaned in to take a whiff.

 

Lance let her.

 

“Hmm? No, I don’t”

 

“Really? Wow. I can’t tell you how deceptive omegans can be. You’re different though. Good different.”

 

Hot. It was getting hot.

 

He wasn’t sure when it happened, but the temperature began to rise. Higher and higher at an alarmingly quick pace, he felt his stomach heat up.

 

“I think I need to lay down,” Lance mumbled.

 

“Sure baby, here lemme help.” Maggie gently settled him across the bench. Lance remembered how beautiful she was.

 

Tragically beautiful.

 

Lance whimpered.

 

“Shhhhh. It’s okay.”

 

Cole’s hands caressed his hair, smoothening brown whisps back and picking off strands from his sweaty forehead.

The contact felt good.

 

And before he knew it, Maggie’s lips pressed against his own. The kiss was tender, enough for Lance to trick himself into thinking this was what love was like.

 

Was it?

 

Cole released a low growl. Lance shivered.

 

Maggie straddled on top of him.

 

There were hands, Lance wasn’t sure whose, plucking off the buttons from his top.

 

“Mmm so hot. You’re so sexy Lance.”

 

Now someone’s mouth was sucking on his nipple, while another bit his zipper, dragging it down at an agonizingly slow pace.

 

Wait.

 

No.

 

“No.”

 

“I know you like me Lance. It’s okay, it’ll feel good.”

 

Did he?

 

He did. He did like her. He wanted Maggie.

 

Not like this though.

 

Lance tried to get up. He needed to–

  


**“Stay.”**

  


An alpha command. Maybe. He wasn’t sure. Has never fell victim to one before. Lance was incapacitated now, too scrambled to fight against his omegan instincts. It was all happening too fast.

  


His pants were off.

  


Their hands went lower. Their hands were everywhere.

  


Sharp teeth ripped into the sensitive skin of his scent gland. Lance cried out in pain.

  
  


Too fast. It happened too fast.

  
  


Maggie would be his first, and certainly not his last.

  
  


Lance wasn’t ready for any of it.

  
  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


“You sure you won’t be needing a ride home lad?”

 

Coran’s offer was much appreciated, but Keith shook his head and declined. He didn’t want to create a burden on anyone, especially considering how hectic business was at the moment.

 

Around three hours ago, the five of them were lounging in the waiting room, sipping tea and snacking on biscuits that Coran insisted on them having. “Nutritional value,” he repeated as they forced down those godforsaken hell wheats.

 

The sweet, liberating chime of the doorbell seemed to be a heaven-sent answer to Keith’s internal chant for help.

 

But instead, it introduced a completely different, far more strenuous dilemma,

 

which arrived in the form of a pregnant woman in labor and her hyperventilating husband.

 

Keith had to admit he was impressed by the doctors’ professionalism, jumping into action without a moment's notice.

 

Though now he felt...useless.

 

Everyone else was still at it. If they weren’t already overseeing the labor in the surgical room, they were comforting the husband, making calls to family members, or organizing necessary documents for the couple’s expected arrival.

 

Everyone was busy.

 

Everyone except Keith.

 

“It’s getting late, I should probably go from here. I’ll be fine, I have my phone and everything.”

 

Coran didn’t seem convinced, mustache sagged into a frown.

 

“Doctor! We require your attention immediately!” Coran whipped his head around, but hesitated, still not sure about abandoning the teenager.

 

“It’s okay, I know what to do.”

 

Coran sighed in surrender, “Okay then, but be sure to keep a flashlight on! Call us when you get home!” Keith nodded and turned to exit, but Coran called for him once more, “Oh! And remember, stranger danger! You seem like a tough lad, but you’re still a young one! I better not see a single scratch on that face!”

 

Keith smiled. Within a matter of hours, Coran was already babying him like family. It was both odd and flattering. “I’ll remember.”

 

Coran seemed to accept that, and sped walked back to his station.

  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


The journey home was chilly. Although the rain stopped, it was still cold enough for puffs of smoke to escape Keith’s lips, hot air spiraling into cool nothingness.

 

The neighborhood was quiet. Not a single car or person in sight. He must’ve been in a less populated part of town.

 

It was a pleasant contrast to the Garrison’s hectic hallways, cluttered with students and faculty bustling out and about.

 

Keith appreciated the privacy.

  


But his privacy became momentary.

  
  


Because in the distance, from the other side of the street underneath a flickering traffic light,

  
  


Keith saw him.

  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


Concrete streets stretched out into seemingly endless paths, and Lance had no idea where the hell he was going in the mix, too disoriented for any attempt at navigation.

 

Anywhere would be fine. Anywhere further away would be fine.

 

He was too numb to care. He felt disgusting. He felt dizzy. He felt so ashamed of everything, and everything else existed solely to taunt him: the endless streets, the overarching shadows of buildings, the flickering traffic light that convulsed in laughter at his torment. They all knew. They knew what he did.

 

He wished he was home. He wished he had his phone so he could call Mamá; A few words of comfort could do wonders. Though he probably wouldn’t if he had it anyways, the shame would burn too much if she knew.

 

His eyes wandered across the street, towards the opposing sidewalk. There was someone else there.

 

They probably knew too. They knew about the disgusting things he let happen to himself. They probably think he’s

  


**~~~~~**

  


Beautiful.

  
  


The most stunning person Keith ever witnessed.

 

Mesmerized, Keith stopped dead in his tracks, hesitant over how to even proceed.

 

This experience was new to him, and frankly a little intimidating. He’s never paid much attention towards anyone. Sure, he knew what a pretty person was supposed to look like.

 

But this person, he was simply breathtaking _._

 

Fuck, why was he being so nervous right now?

 

_Calm down and keep walking. Focus on the ground. Stop staring at him like a fucking creep, Jesus._

 

Though Keith couldn’t stop his heart from thudding against his chest.

  
  


**~~~~~**

  


Disgusting.

  
  


Lance disgusted him. He’s obviously avoiding contact, avoiding Lance. That’s why he picked up his pace and everything.

 

Though maybe he was just taking pity, sparing Lance the mercy of confronting any more people.

 

Lance should spare this man from his existence.

 

Lance picked up the pace as well.

  
  


**~~~~~**

  
  


Shit. The guy is getting closer. They’re about to cross paths now.

 

Keith just needed to keep walking, bare a little longer so he wouldn’t creep out the poor stranger anymore than he already has.

  


_Hormones. It’s just hormones._

  


They were about to cross paths in a few seconds

 

Trembling fingers clenched into fists.

  


...

  


Okay, everything is good now. It’s all fine. It’d be smooth sailing from here.

 

Keith buried his blush into his jacket collar and continued on home.

  


**~~~~~**

  


Even after the stranger’s presence drifted further and further away, Lance didn’t feel any less scrutinized.

 

Judgemental eyes came from everywhere, it’s overwhelming presence suffocating him. He couldn’t breath.

  


Dios, he was so dizzy.

  
  


Eyesight blurry from tears, Lance stumbled on.

  
  


Minutes passed. Maybe hours. Lance had no clue how many.

  
  


At this point, all his senses were dulled.

  
  


He couldn’t even see the truck that pulled over.

  
  


He couldn’t even stop the hand that reached around Lance’s mouth, stealing his scream away with cloth.

  


 

Instead Lance surrendered to consuming darkness, and passed out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Clarification: Lance was in fact given a drug that induces a minor heat. If you're not a fan of any more Lance misfortune, then I'd advise you to not continue reading future chapters. Things get worse from here folks. Although, I am still contemplating how graphic I plan on depicting future scenes (don't worry I'll change the rating accordingly). 
> 
> Also, for those who thought Keith would swoop in and help. Psyche? You thought? They actually won't meet again until later, though don't worry Klance will come eventually. And by eventually, I mean EVENTUALLY. There are still important characters and background building that must come to play.
> 
> Another author's note: I don't have anything against Curtis. Personally, I felt it was easier to write Adam and Shiro as a couple since in the show you got to know Adam as a person slightly better. In case you're wondering, yes. There is social stigma against same secondary gender couples, like our lovely Shadam duo. I wasn't sure if I could tag homophobia as a warning, because omegaverse sort of complicates things. Apologies if that bothered you. 
> 
> I'm contemplating on whether future chapters will be THIS long. It depends on whatever feels like an optimal writer's choice. Also depends on whether you smash that kudos button or fuel me with comments. Much love!


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